


He's My Cherry Pie

by StarCrossedKili



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrossedKili/pseuds/StarCrossedKili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers basically runs a café, which he doesn't mind. He almost enjoys waking up early to bake everything for the day, making sure each cake and pastry is up to his standards. But when a strikingly handsome man leaves an entire plate unfinished,  Steve has to know what the problem is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's My Cherry Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Is this cliché? yes.  
> Am I sorry?  
> No.  
> Are coffee shop AUs the cutest thing in the entire world?  
> You bet.
> 
> I saw this prompt floating around tumblr, and I've seen it done a few different ways. If anyone knows the original source, please let me know so I can give credit to the beautiful soul who thought of such an adorable idea!  
> Thank you for reading!

“That’ll be four dollars and eighty cents.” Steve Rogers smiled, waiting for the elderly woman to count out exact change. “We’ll have your drink out in just a second.”  
“No caffeine.” The woman scowled. “Remember that.”  
Steve smiled politely and held the cup with her order scribbled on it. “I’ve made the note.”  
It was late afternoon in the little café, just late enough for the sun to glare off the coffee machines. The shop was usually quiet, but not like today. The old woman was the first customer to walk through the door in over an hour. Steve could hear her foot tapping against the tile and picked up the pace.  
“Here you are, ma’am.” Steve handed her the cup, careful not to let go until her grip was tight. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”  
“No.” The old woman huffed as she turned away, scuffling out the door.  
Steve sighed and went back to the cup he had been doodling on. He hated slow days; the machines could only be cleaned so many times before he was just wasting cleaning supplies. He was thankful for the constant supply of insulated coffee cups and Sharpies; at least he could practice his artistic skills.  
A loud crash directed Steve’s attention to the kitchen. An even louder groan followed. “Steve!” An attractive woman poked her head around the swinging door. A few red curls escaped her bun, adding fire to her annoyed expression. “Why would you stack the dishes like that? This isn’t Jenga!”  
“Sorry, Natasha.” Steve teased. “If you had waited a minute I would have done them.”  
Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Liar. You haven’t set foot in the kitchen since my shift started. You’ve been out here wasting all the ink in that pen.”  
Steve looked at his little art project. The New York skyline circled the base in negative space, so there was a lot of ink involved. “We have twelve more in the drawer.”  
“That’s not the point.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “The point is that I’m bored enough to do dishes and that means you’re spending too much time in the front.”  
“If we just sat back there and talked, Nick would cut my shift short or worse, going back to having one person work at a time.” Steve defended.  
“Oh, and misusing company property is any better?” Natasha teased, eyeing Steve’s cup.  
“I’m going to use it…” Steve blushed. He didn’t even realize he was drawing until it was half over, and at that point he just wanted to finish it.  
Natasha eyed him carefully. “Once I’m done with the dishes I’m going to spend the rest of my shift in front, ok?”  
Steve shrugged. “Fine by me.” He stifled a grin as she popped back to the kitchen, clanking dished together as she threw them in the sink. Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. His shift wasn’t supposed to end for another two hours, and he had already worked six. Sometimes he resented working for a small café, it meant there were fewer employees to share shifts with, but it had its perks; like a bigger paycheck because he didn’t have to share shifts with other employees.  
The bell over the door rang, signaling a customer. Steve struggled to see against the glare of sunlight, but managed to say “Hello, welcome to Howling Café! What can I get for you?”  
The customer stepped to the counter, shifting into better lighting. Steve felt his chest tighten. He almost wanted to grab his inhaler, but icy blue eyes held him frozen in place. “I haven’t been here before.” A rich voice drawled. “What do you suggest?”  
Steve stood for a moment, his brain not fully processing what was before him. He understood that the man was a little shorter than him. He understood that the man had chocolate hair long enough to be pulled into a messy bun. He understood that the man was wearing a rather tight shirt that showed off quite a bit of muscle definition. He did not understand how all of those traits could be on the same person standing right in front of him.  
The man raised an eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face?” He chuckled, trying to get Steve’s attention back. Suddenly realizing he’d been staring, Steve blinked back to reality.  
“Sorry about that.” Steve smiled sheepishly. “It’s been a lot shift.”  
“I can imagine.” The man smirked, a sly grin that threatened to send Steve into another space out.  
“Anyways!” Steve stood up straighter, clearing his head a bit. “It would depend on what you’re in the mood for.” He attempted a polite tone, but he could hear his voice shake.  
The man scrunched his nose, thinking. “Something sweet, and something to wash it down.”  
“We have a large selection of pastries, all made fresh.” Steve side stepped to the display case, giving the stranger something else to focus on before he noticed Steve’s blush.  
“You make any yourself?” The man asked, eyeing the case.  
Steve sighed. “All of them, today.” It really had been a long day.  
“Which one took the most time?” He looked up at Steve, the low angle accentuating his lashes. Steve had to clear his throat before continuing.  
“Um… I’d have to say the cherry pie.” Steve pondered. “The filling takes a while to set and we have to make it look nice.”  
“Then I’ll take a slice of that.” The man grinned, standing up again. “What goes good with cherry pie?”  
“How about a cup of tea?” Steve suggested. “We have some plain stuff so you don’t overload yourself with sweet stuff. The pie alone could give you some pretty bad cavities.” The stranger laughed softly; a deep rumble that shook his shoulders slightly. Steve had to pinch himself to keep from hyperventilating.   
“Alright, I’ll take a slice of cherry pie and a cup of tea.” The stranger decided cheerfully.  
“Coming right up!” Steve jumped, grabbing the nearest cup and starting the tea.  
The man raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I need to pay?”  
“Right!” Steve jumped back to the register to ring him up. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “Eight dollars and sixty-nine cents.” He watched as the man pulled out an old wallet somewhat awkwardly, using only his right hand.  
“Keep the change.” The man insisted, handing Steve a ten.  
“Thanks!” Steve smiled, depositing it in the tip jar. “And I’ll need a name?” That was a lie. They only needed to take names when there were multiple customers.  
“Bucky.” The man stated. Steve bit his lip. The nickname didn’t seem to fit the rugged man before him. “It was a childhood nickname that stuck, ok?” The man defended jokingly, noticing Steve’s smirk.  
“Nothing wrong with that!” Steve raised his hands before scribbling the name on an empty part of the cup.  
“What, you never had a nickname as a kid?” Bucky teased.  
“Oh I had a lot of nicknames, but none I would want to keep in adulthood.” Steve chuckled. “I was the smallest, skinniest shrimp of a kid.”  
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That is quite a shock. You must have had one hell of a growth spurt.”  
Steve shrugged. When he reached adulthood his body decided to stop self-destructing. His health was generally better, his asthma didn’t act up as much, and he grew at least a foot. The muscle mass was an added bonus. He then realized he was standing with a half-finished cup of tea and set back to work.   
“What is your name, by the way?” Bucky asked innocently. “It always seems a little one sided with these places. You get my name but I never get yours.”  
“I’m Steve.” He replied, turning to Bucky.  
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Steve.” The man smiled, flashing his pearly teeth.  
“It’s nice to meet you too, Bucky.” Steve forced himself to breath. Attractive men would be the death of him. Or maybe just this attractive man. His gaze seemed locked with Bucky’s, neither one backing down. Steve could feel a heat building up in his chest. Or was it his hand?  
“Oh!” Steve shouted. “Here!” He set the cup and plate on the counter, pushing it to Bucky.  
“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky chuckled. He could have sworn the man was blushing slightly, but Steve blamed it on a trick of the lights. He watched as Bucky carefully placed the cup on the edge of the plate, transporting it to a table.  
“Just call if you need anything.” Steve assured Bucky before darting into the kitchen. Natasha jumped at his sudden appearance.   
“What the hell!” She glared. “What happened?”  
Steve checked the camera monitor to watch Bucky for a second, getting his breath back. “Nat, it’s your turn to be in front. I can’t go back.”  
Natasha joined him to look at the screen. “Oh, he’s hot.” She whistled. “Did he hit on you or something?”  
“No, that would have been the opposite of a problem.” Steve managed to collect himself. “I didn’t expect someone like him to show up today and it caught me off guard. I’m sure he thinks I’m high or something. I zoned out at least twice.”  
Natasha chuckled. “You’re hot now, Steve. You’re going to have to get used to people actually paying attention to you.”  
With one last glance, Steve tore his eyes away from the screen. “I’m a barista, Nat. Look at that guy. He’s not going to be interested in me.”  
“Whatever you say, sweetie.” Natasha teased, putting a few of the dishes away. “If you want to hide back here from Mr. Hottie, you’re more than welcome. You can finish washing plates.”  
“Just until he leaves, ok?” Steve warned. He was a professional, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let some pretty boy change his work ethic.  
“Sure thing.” Natasha winked. She stayed until they noticed Bucky getting up.  
“You can leave your plate; we’ll take care of it.” Steve heard Natasha insist through the kitchen door.  
He watched as Bucky pushed in his chair with his elbow, clutching his cup in the same hand. Steve heard the bell a moment later, signaling Bucky’s exit. Natasha entered the kitchen a moment later.  
“He’s not the one for you, Steve.” She declared. “He didn’t finish his pie.”  
Steve furrowed his brow, staring at the plate of mangled pie. “It looks like a crime scene…”  
“Your pie is great; he’s crazy for not liking it.” Natasha decided, scraping the remains into the trash with a defeated thud.  
“Oh well…” Steve sighed. He wasn’t sure why it hurt him a little. He didn’t know Bucky very well and it wasn’t like cherry pie was his best out of everything. He wasn’t offended when other people didn’t finish their order but this one was a little different. “I knew he was too good to be true.”  
**  
Steve set up the shop bright and early the next day. He was glad to have Sam helping him; the mornings were always a little more chaotic. Between baking the day’s supply and filling coffee orders for half-awake customers, it got hectic. There was a lull around eleven, but it picked right back up at noon. Sam was shouting orders while Steve rushed to fill them. He was almost surprised to see the shop so busy until he heard the nearby Starbucks was closed for the day.  
When things looked like they were slowing down for good, Steve couldn’t help but sigh with relief. A busy store meant more tips, but the exhaustion didn’t let him appreciate it yet. Steve found himself doodling on a cup before long. Sam was even more efficient than he was, so there wasn’t anything to clean or stock or wipe. Not long after he started his intricate pattern of vines, the bell rang.  
“Well hello again.” Sang a familiar voice. Steve looked up and his breath caught in his chest. Bucky was back.  
“Hey, Bucky! You’re back?” Steve tried not to sound shocked.  
“Yeah, a little later than expected, but I’m back.” Bucky smiled.  
Steve tried his best to play cool. “Late day at the office?” It was almost five, a reasonable time to get off work. For people other than Steve, who basically ran the café.  
Bucky chuckled. “I don’t think I’d last long in an office. No, I had some appointments that ran long.”  
Steve wanted to ask more, but Bucky’s sort answer looked like the only response he would get on the subject. “I know how that goes.” Steve tried to grin, but it felt strange on his face. “What would you like today?”  
“Same as yesterday, if you have it.” Bucky smiled. Steve paused.  
“Are you sure?” Steve asked, remembering the mutilated cherry pie.  
“Yes?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Do you not have the pie today?”  
“No, we have it!” Steve assured. “It’s just… Yeah. Alright. Eight sixty-nine.”  
Bucky handed him a ten. “Keep the change.”  
“Thanks.” Steve deposited the coins in the tip jar and started the order  
Bucky walked over to the end counter, waiting patiently. His right hand went up to massage the opposite shoulder, a small groan echoing from his lips. It took a splash of scalding water to stop Steve from fanaticizing about making Bucky moan like that under different circumstances.  
“Here you go!” Steve hurried over to hand Bucky the plate and cup. Bucky picked up the tea and examined it.  
“Did you guys get different cups?” He questioned.  
“What?” Steve looked at a cup in the stack next to him. They hadn’t changed.  
Bucky shrugged. “The one I got yesterday had a different design, that’s all.”  
“A different design…” Steve stopped. He made a mental note to switch his boredom doodles to napkins. “No, yesterday I must have given you a cup I was drawing on. I do that when it gets slow.” He could feel himself blushing.  
Bucky glanced up at him through thick lashes. “Did you get bored today?” He held up his cup, displaying the vines Steve had started earlier. Bucky’s name was scribbled in an empty space.  
“It got a little slow.” Steve admitted, trying to act casual.  
“You’re going to spoil me, Steve.” Bucky joked. “I’m going to walk into a Starbucks one day and be offended when my cup isn’t a work of art.”  
“Or you could just always come here and never have to worry about that.” Steve suggested, teasingly.  
“Now there’s an idea!” Bucky lifted his cup in toast, taking a long drink. Steve couldn’t help but notice how his neck flexed.  
“I… I have dishes. To be washed.” Steve stammered, realizing he’d been staring a bit too long. “Call if you need anything.” He could have sworn he heard Bucky whisper ‘I will’ after him but he shook it off. He ran past Sam to check the cameras. Bucky sat in the same spot as the day before, carefully balancing the cup on the plate before setting it down on the table.  
“You alright, Steve?” Sam wandered over to see what the fuss was about.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve watched carefully as Bucky took another drink. “This guy came in yesterday and didn’t like the cherry pie, but came in today and ordered the exact same thing.”  
Sam peered over his friend’s shoulder to get a better look. “Wait, I know him.” Sam exclaimed.  
Steve spun. “You do?”  
“Yeah, he goes to the same physical therapist as Riley.” Sam explained. Sam and Riley met in the air force and moved in together after they were both discharged for injuries. Riley’s were more intense than Sam’s, it had been almost a year and he was still in therapy.  
“Do you know anything about him?” Steve demanded.  
Sam shrugged. “I think his name is James, and Riley told me he used to be Special Forces or something. That’s all I’m going to let you know, Rogers.” Sam warned. “What happens in physical therapy stays in physical therapy. It’s not my business to go around telling other people’s baggage.”  
Steve sighed. “I know.” Steve closed his eyes and tore himself away from the screen. “Would you mind taking over the front while he’s out there? I don’t want to see him reject my baking.”  
Sam looked at him suspiciously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a crush. Your shift ends in five minutes; you’ll have to face him on your way out.”  
“Steve!” A new voice hissed from the kitchen door. Natasha padded in.  
“Jesus, Nat!” Sam barked. “Don’t sneak up on people like that!”  
“And a good evening to you too, Sammy.” Natasha grinned, not taking her eyes off of Steve. “He’s back.”  
“Really?” Steve mocked wonder. “I thought he was a ghost!”  
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “He’s tearing up the pie again.”  
“What?” Steve rushed back to the monitor, only to find Bucky slamming his fork down and getting up to leave. Natasha poked her head out of the kitchen door just in time to say “Have a nice night!” before the bell rang and he was gone.  
Steve ran out to find another cherry pie victim. The crust was torn off and the filling was leaking all over the plate. He almost glared at the retreating back of Bucky, but couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Just confused.  
**  
Starbucks was open again the next day, and the café seemed like a wasteland in comparison. Steve opened the shop again, made more cakes, glared at the cherry pie as the filling set, and waited for people to come in. Nick called and told him Peggy was sick and couldn’t show up for her shift, but Steve assured his boss that he could handle it. Natasha was scheduled to come in around three, and he knew it wasn’t going to be a busy day. Thursdays never were.  
Only a handful of customers came in the hours before Natasha showed up, and it was noticeable. Steve had reorganized everything from cleaning supplies to coffee beans to water bottles.  
“I love what you’ve done with the place.” Natasha teased as she set her purse behind the counter.  
“I’m bored out of my mind, Nat.” Steve groaned, setting down a spray bottle and wash cloth. He’s already washed that window five times.  
“Maybe you should call Nick and ask for the rest of the day off. I’m sure he’d appreciate not having to pay you, especially if it’s been a slow day.” Nat suggested, clocking in.  
“No, I need the money.” Steve sighed. “I’ll deal with the crippling boredom.”  
Natasha turned back to Steve, a devious twinkle in her eye. “Do you think the Cherry Pie Killer will come back today?”  
Steve froze. He’d been thinking about it all day, but didn’t dare to hope. Part of him wanted to see those piercing blue eyes again and hear that velvet voice, but he didn’t think his ego could take another hit for the third day in a row. “I don’t know.”  
“You’re no fun.” Natasha clicked as she headed back to the kitchen.  
Steve suddenly felt very anxious. He sighed, grabbing an empty cup and a Sharpie. He promised himself to break the habit on a different day.  
He didn’t know what he was sketching, but it made him feel better. He almost didn’t notice the bell above the door ringing.  
“Working up another masterpiece for me, Steve?” Bucky smirked. Steve shot his head up to meet the man. His words escaped him for a second. Bucky was wearing a tank top, revealing just how toned he was. His left arm was covered in one of the most intricate tattoo Steve had seen, turning the whole appendage into a robotic limb.  
“Not as good as that tattoo!” Steve leaned forward to get a better look at it. It trailed off towards his forearm, ending in loose wires and metal scraps.  
Bucky shuffled; a little self-conscious. “Thanks. I had it done a little bit ago to cover some scars.”  
“Oh.” Steve straightened up. There must have been a lot of scaring to wrrent a tattoo of that size. “Sorry to hear that.”  
Bucky shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m alive, and that’s what matters.”  
Steve tried his best to prevent a sympathetic smile. “Damn right! What’ll it be today?”  
Bucky grinned. “Same as yesterday.”  
Steve almost broke something. “Cherry pie and tea?”  
“Yes sir!” Bucky replied.  
Steve carefully put in the order. “Sure thing. Eight sixty-nine.”  
Bucky handed him another ten. “Do I even have to say it this time?”  
That got a chuckle out of Steve as he placed the change in the tip jar. He set to work on the tea, not really paying attention. He set the order on the counter before he realized the mistake in that.  
“Wow, Stevie.” Bucky admired the drawing on his cup. “It looks just like me!”  
Steve didn’t know if he was blushing because of the nickname or the face he just handed the man he’d been obsessing over for the past few days a cup with a very detailed picture of his face on it.  
“Eh, I thought you looked vain enough to like a portrait of yourself.” Steve tried to play it off.  
“You guessed right.” Bucky winked at him. Steve definitely needed his inhaler.   
“Well,” Steve started, “Call-“  
“I know; I’ll call you if I need anything.” Bucky set the cup down on the plate and picked it up with a grin. Steve returned the smile before ducking back, almost crashing into Natasha in the process.  
“You drew him on the cup!” Natasha hissed, trying to hold back laughter. “You’re adorable!”  
“Oh, shut up!” Steve pushed her aside to look at the monitor. He watched as Bucky sat in the same place as the previous days, taking a sip of the tea.  
“Are you really going to sit here and watch him eat?” Natasha teased.  
“I just want to figure out why he keeps ordering pie and not eating it, ok?” Steve replied, keeping his eyes on the screen.  
“Whatever…” Natasha sighed before going back to dishes.  
Steve watched Bucky intently. He saw the man pick up a fork in his right hand and poke at the pie. In his left hand it seemed like he was trying to get a hold of the knife, but he abandoned it and stuck with the fork. After a few brutal stabbings, he slammed the fork down loud enough to reach the kitchen. He was about to leave the pie again, as brutally shredded as the other days. As Bucky stood up, something in Steve snapped. He pushed past Natasha and bolted to the front.  
“Is something wrong with my pie?” Steve demanded to a stunned Bucky.  
“What?” Bucky almost whispered.  
“Is there something wrong with the cherry pie? Steve repeated, a little softer.  
“No, nothing is wrong with it-” Bucky started.  
“Then why don’t you eat it? This is the third day in a row you’ve left a crime scene on our tables.” Steve pointed out, realizing how stupid he must look.  
Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and muttered something Steve didn’t hear.  
“What?” Steve leaned in a little closer.  
“I can’t cut the pie.” Bucky almost shouted; his face red. “My broken arm can’t hold a stupid knife to cut into that glorious pie and a fork doesn’t work so the whole thing turns into a mess and I get so frustrated that I leave before I embarrass myself more.”  
Steve took a second to soak up the information. “Why didn’t you just order something else the second time you came in?”  
Bucky bit his lip and even though he was pretty sure they were fighting Steve couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to bit them, too.  
Steve shook his head to clear it. Not the time. “I mean, we have some pretty soft cakes that a fork could get through petty easy.”  
“I come here from my Physical Therapy.” Bucky explained. “I don’t know, maybe I thought that eventually I could hold a knife and finally eat what you work so hard on.”  
Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “Cherry pie isn’t my favorite thing here, you know.”  
Bucky looked up from his shoes. “Really? Why would you work hard on something if it’s not your favorite?”  
“It’s time consuming, not difficult.” Steve shrugged. “If I had known you would’ve taken my suggestion so seriously I would have told you to get the fudge brownie.”  
Bucky laughed. “And that’s finger food, I’m guessing?”  
Steve smirked. “No knives required.”  
“You’re a punk, you know that?” Bucky shook his head, a smile plastered on his face.  
“Yeah, well you’re a stubborn jerk.” Steve teased. “Let me get you a brownie, on the house.”  
“Oh, Stevie, you don’t have to do that.” Bucky started.  
“Buck, as long as you eat it without making it look like a shark attacked it I’ll be happy.” Steve set the new treat on a plate and brought it over, clearing the old one.  
He caught Bucky grinning stupidly, from the nickname or the free brownie Steve couldn’t tell. The moment broke when there was another loud crash from the kitchen. “I should go check that out.” Steve said reluctantly. “If you need anything-”  
“I’ll call.” Bucky smiled sweetly.  
“Actually,” Steve frowned, “That’s going to be a little difficult.”  
Bucky’s face grew serious. “Why?”  
The corner of Steve’s mouth gave away his joke. “Because you don’t have my number.” As smooth as he could manage, he picked up Bucky’s coffee cup and scribbled his digits on the side, making sure to put his name on the top. Just in case.  
Steve walked away, sneaking a peek back. Bucky was looking at the number, a brilliant grin stretched across his face. As soon as Steve got in the kitchen, he checked the monitor.  
“No, Steve, I’m fine.” He heard Natasha complain. “I didn’t just topple your insane dish stack. Don’t worry about it.”  
Steve could barely hear her. He could only watch as Bucky picked up the brownie with his good hand and took a bite.


End file.
